


Cultivation

by dictatorships, orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-11-16
Updated: 2011-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-26 04:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dictatorships/pseuds/dictatorships, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is the City, and then there is everything else.</p><p>Herein lies an asshole in a position of power, at least one charming street urchin, an inconveniently-located farm, several would-be activists, and a whole bunch of people who would rather be left alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU set on Earth in the distant future. Everyone is human, Sburb is not a thing that happened.
> 
> Also posted on [Tumblr](http://cultivationstuck.tumblr.com/).
> 
> This is kind of a learning process for us. We're still trying to work out how best to write collaboratively. The first couple of chapters we've alternated, but we're definitely going to work on making it smoother in the future. All apologies for any awkwardness.
> 
> Extras/Background stories: [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/281615/chapters/447970).
> 
> Also, I think I should add a quick thanks to our friend Justin for contributing very small things that ended up being much bigger (the title, and accidentally half of the plot).

Jade only knows the ocean from pictures.

She’s never stood on the shore, staring into infinity, waiting to see something rise up over the horizon – knowing there are things past it, knowing the world isn’t flat, but having no proof. She has never felt the water drowning her feet, taking the sand from between her toes when it recedes, pulling the very ground she stands on out from under her.

But she knows the feeling.

She stands outside, toes in the grass, staring at the skyscrapers that surround her, staring down the streets and alleys that stretch on forever, trying to find something beyond the expanse that is the City. Maybe it goes on forever. Maybe the concrete is a living thing, maybe a virus. Jade read once that after the Leveling the trees and the grasses forced themselves through the cracks in the streets and the sidewalks when there were no people left to fill them. So maybe the concrete is vengeful. Outside of Jade’s home, she’s never seen anything that isn’t the City.

Jade’s home, the tiny plot of land that they haven’t been able to touch, is an island. So far, she’s been safe from the storm surge, but the water’s getting rougher, and soon the tide will come in and carry her out to sea.

-

“So, can I get at one of those apples or what?”

Dave is leaning against the No Trespassing sign, and his feet are  _so close_ to the wall it makes Jade nervous. It’s pretty obvious where the wall is – exactly at the spot where the grass and the concrete meet – so Dave has to know, and he’s not a complete idiot so he knows exactly what will happen when he touches it. Jade just does not feel like dealing with morons knocking themselves unconscious outside her wall.

Jade is a little worried that she might drop her basket if she has to stand around listening to this guy for much longer. Her arms are starting to ache. “Look, you can’t keep – I can’t – I can’t feed you, okay? I can’t go out, and you can’t come in. You’re – you’re just being downright obnoxious!”

“I didn’t wanna resort to seduction, but you leave me no choice, miss.” He pulls the neck of his shirt into a V, leans forward and wiggles his eyebrows, and Jade just wants to laugh but stifles it. It’s strange, she notes, trying to read someone’s face when he’s wearing sunglasses. Jade has never seen him smile, even when he tries to be funny. All of his expression is right there in his eyebrows. He’s a mess and Jade feels bad for him – his shirt was probably white at some point, but now it’s roughly the same color as the alleys he hangs out in and way too small. It looks like he’s owned it since pre-puberty and outgrew it about a foot ago.

Jade wants to help him, but he’s lived this long without her help, and if she feeds one street urchin she’ll have to feed all of them. Still, he seems more desperate than the last time – last time he had moved on after a few minutes of idle chatter made him realize she wasn’t going to budge. But charity is stupid, and she needs to set these apples down somewhere, so she starts walking back towards the house.

“Hey. Hey, where are you goin’? Don’t be like that, I know you could use the company.” The apples are only getting heavier, so Jade walks faster. Ignoring Dave makes her feel terrible, but she has to keep her priorities in order. “Look, I just wanna-”

 _Thud_. Jade groans. Is he really that stupid? Reluctantly, she looks over her shoulder, and yes, he is that stupid. Jade sets the basket on the ground and walks back toward the wall, digging in her pockets. She is definitely going to kill this guy when he wakes up. 

-

When Dave wakes up, he’s lying on what appears to be an actual bed, and he kind of wishes he could go back to sleep to appreciate it a little bit more. But the farm girl is sitting across the room and that’s a really interesting development, so Dave’s brain prioritizes  _figure out how the fuck I got here_ over  _enjoy sleeping in a strange girl’s bed_. He’s slightly ashamed of himself when he remembers – banging on a weird electrified invisible wall is probably not the best idea he’s ever had. There are other places to get food, it wasn’t that important.

Sometimes he gets hungry enough to get desperate. He’s usually a master of self control, but sometimes food is hard to come by and he lets his nerves get the best of him and electrocutes himself yelling at a teenage recluse with a basket of apples.

He did not think his tactics through very well, but he’s inside and he knows there’s food in here. Mission pretty much accomplished.

“Hey, you’re awake! Are you feeling okay?”

Dave is starting to enjoy the bed more and more so he doesn’t sit up. “Yeah, I’m good. Wait, shit, where are my-“

“Your glasses are on the floor.” Dave notices for the first time that the bed is not so much a bed as a mattress with no frame. Still, it’s better than what he’s used to. “Didn’t think you’d want to sleep with them on! Of course, I don’t know, you might. But since you’re okay, I just want to ask-” The girl walks over and kneels by the bed. “Are you a complete moron?”

Dave reaches out his hand and feels around for his sunglasses. “Not always. I dabble a little.”

“That wall is dangerous, Dave! What if I had just decided to leave you there unconscious? Where would you be now? Somehow I doubt the hospital would want to deal with you, they’d probably just throw you in jail for the hell of it! You’re lucky you weigh as little as you do, or I’d never have been able to drag you in here!”

“Oh God, can you stop that?” Dave finds his shades and puts them on, still lying on his back on the mattress. “Also, how do you know my name?”

“You told me last time you were here, remember? We talked for a while – you don’t remember mine, do you?” She walks away for a second and comes back holding the most gorgeous red apple Dave has ever seen. She puts the apple in his hand. “It’s Jade. It’s kind of weird to me that you don’t know. I’m kind of a tourist attraction at this point.” Jade laughs, but there’s no warmth, no sincerity to the sound.

Jade sits down on the floor beside the mattress, and the room is silent except the sound of Dave eating. He isn’t even bothering with table manners, but then again he doesn’t eat at a table very often and this is a mattress anyway so it doesn’t really matter.

When Dave finishes eating every bit he can scrape off the apple, Jade takes the core from him and throws it away. She asks him if he’s thirsty and brings him some water. She brings him more food, asks him over and over how he feels. Dave isn’t sure he likes this, this being waited on like a sick child thing, and he’s fine, really. There’s not going to be any lasting damage. He’s tired more than anything, and that’s not a new development.

What’s new is that Dave is getting enough food to actually quell his hunger for the first time in a very long time, and at some point, no matter what Bro says, food is more important than dignity. He doesn’t ask for more after he realizes that, shit, this is what she eats – she doesn’t leave, she doesn’t have anything else. He finishes the food he has with a twinge of guilt.

“It must, uh, it must get pretty lonely. You know, being here, by yourself and all.” Dave hates touchy stuff,  _feelings_  stuff, but he thinks at the very least Jade deserves his genuine interest. She really is interesting, anyway. It must be so strange, being a spectacle. Dave may not be able to watch the news on television but he knows of her, he’s seen how people crowd around the wall to watch as she tends her garden. Like she’s living in a life-sized diorama in a museum or something. It makes him kind of angry, which is weird, he’s not used to this much empathy at one time. He thinks maybe it has something to do with that evolutionary phenomenon that makes you want to protect small cute things. Like kittens.

“Well, it’s not all bad. I have Bec, at least.”

“Who?”

“He’s my dog! He’s really great, if slightly rascally.” She surveys the room. “I don’t know where he is right now. I think he’s outside.”

“That safe? I mean, with the wall and everything.”

“He’s really smart, I swear. He’s the smartest dog ever.” A pause. “Not that I’ve ever met another dog.”

Somehow the conversation turns to other things. Jade talks about her family, how they’ve all either died or vanished, how it ended up being just her and her grandpa until he got stabbed by some thug while out trading in the city. How she’s alone. And Dave bites his tongue, his life is kind of shitty but far less singular and strange and he knows she’ll appreciate someone just listening.

-

There’s a really big bar of chocolate in the cellar that would be perfect for this occasion, Jade thinks. She never has guests, so she may as well enjoy this while she can. She excuses herself and heads downstairs.

Jade is a little surprised by how little food is left.

It’s certainly enough to last her for a little while. She’s not going to be starving to death any time soon, but for the first time she realizes that she can’t live off of these food stores forever. The garden will always be there, but it doesn’t seem realistic to live off of fruits and vegetables forever. She’s going to run out of baking ingredients before long, and then she won’t have any bread. God, she thinks, it would be so nice to be in the city – to drink milk and sodas and eat three-course meals.

She can’t do that. She has to be strong.

Jade doesn’t realize how long she’s been standing there, her stomach aching with nostalgia for city food, until she hears Dave’s footsteps down the stairs. “Sorry, I got… distracted.”

“I thought maybe you’d been eaten by mutant cellar rats or something, but hey, good to know I was mistaken.”

“No rats here,” Jade says, with a half-hearted laugh. She suddenly remembers why she came down in the first place and starts to look for that candy bar. When she finds it, she turns around to face Dave, who’s still standing at the foot of the stairs. She waves the chocolate at him. “Look! Candy!” When she breaks off a piece and moves to hand it to him, Dave just stands there.

“I’m good.”

Jade frowns. “Take it! I can’t eat it all myself.”

Dave takes the chocolate, but he just holds it until Jade can see it melting in his hands.

“Dave?”

“This is all the food you have?”

“It’s- It’s plenty.” Jade tries to conceal her anxiety. She doesn’t need Dave to worry – why should he worry about her? He has problems of his own. Even if it’s feigned concern, she doesn’t want it.

“For how long?”

“Stop it.”

“No.”

Jade sighs and tries to walk back up the stairs, but Dave blocks her way. “Dave, come on-“

“Let me help you. I’ll bring you food from outside, I’ll-“

“What? Steal bread for me? Are you gonna be my thief in shining armor?” This time, Jade pushes harder and breaks Dave’s barricade. She’s already made it to the top of the stairs before Dave follows.

“Jade, Jade, come on.”

Jade turns around, arms folded. Dave is standing a few steps down, and Jade can see the red in his eyes when he looks up at her from behind his sunglasses. It’s really the first time he’s made eye contact with her willingly, and it seems to her like a gesture of good faith. “If you really want to help me out, I think we can make a deal.”

-

Soon, Dave is cradling a bag of apples in his arms as Jade walks him outside. “I promise I won’t be angry if you don’t come back with much. Sometimes there’s no one willing to make a trade.” There’s nothing left for her to tell him; she’s scrounged up every note her grandpa left, every name she can remember him mentioning.

“I know how to barter, Harley.” Dave looks out at the City as Jade presses the button on her remote. “I’m not about to get knocked the fuck out again, am I?”

Jade pushes him through the gap in the wall. “See you soon.”

Dave, hands full, just nods as he walks back into the City. “Later.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We were gonna wait 'til reset!Bro was introduced to post this chapter over here, to decide if we wanted to change his name, but we got impatient. So you get Brian.

Dave shifts the weight of the bag of apples from one arm to the next, and continues down the road from Jade’s place. People are staring at him, but he just shrugs it off and continues down the dirty alleyways of the City that he knows so well. He’d hate to have to fight them all off with this one bag.

In all of his nineteen years of life, Dave recalls very little of his childhood. Most of his memories now are of Bro teaching him the ways of the streets. He knows it wasn’t always like this, though, and as he passes through the alley where he was found, there’s a wave of nostalgia that washes over him, sweeps him away until he’s lost in his own thoughts.

Dave was a rambunctious little tyke, no real surprise there. He never stayed in one place for very long, he probably gave his parents a hard time, he thinks. The house he grew up in wasn’t very big, there was barely enough room to breathe or walk around. He spent most of his time outside, scraping his knees, like other little boys. For the most part, he had a decent childhood, from what he remembers of it.

Except for the part where he was on the streets by the time he was six.

At the time, he was too young to really understand what was going on (though, he still couldn’t explain it to you now if you asked him). No explanation was given to him; there was no chance for him to even try to argue a case – as best a six year old would be able to, anyway. He just woke up in an alleyway, alone and scared and confused. Thinking on it made Dave angry, so he didn’t regularly think on it. He didn’t know how often kids were just left on the streets like he was. He could guess it probably wasn’t a rare occurrence. It still made him upset.

But Dave considers himself one of the luckier street urchins.

Not everyone gets a mentor.

-

Brian Strider has been fending for himself on the streets his whole life; he has a map of the City’s back roads and shortcuts permanently etched into his mind. He knows people – no one of importance in the considerably grand scheme of things. No one of importance to anyone down on the streets. He was something of a drifter, never really in any one place for too long. There was a warehouse he slept in, but he didn’t even stay there all the time. Sometimes, he would sleep in a tent that he’d found on one of his many scavenger hunts.

At twenty-five, he was relatively carefree. The last thing Brian was ever expecting was to be responsible for another person. From an outward glance, he could hardly take care of himself. He managed on the streets fairly well, better than most of the other homeless, but that didn’t mean he was in any position to be some sort of… parent or something. He wasn’t good at any of that stuff. So when he happened across a screaming little kid on one of his usual routes, he was at a loss.

For awhile, Brian just kind of stared at it – him. He had to remind himself that this was a perfectly functional human being with eyes and ears and hair and a very healthy pair of lungs. When his brain finally caught up to him, he managed to take his sunglasses off and put them on top of his tattered cap. Good. That was a start. Then he realized that maybe standing up to full height was a little intimidating to a small child and that he should probably bring himself to this little monster’s level, so he knelt down. The kid stopped crying, so that was a good sign. Okay, so… now what? Brian figured he should probably actually say words and try to find out what was wrong.

“Uh, hey.” All right, Brian. That’s something. Way to be. “What’s a little man like you doing out here on your own? Don’t you know kids aren’t supposed to play in alleyways?”

“I… I woke up here.”

“Well, what’s your name, kid?”

“Dave.”

“Well, kid, my name is Brian. Shouldn’t you be at home?” Dave just gave him this look. “Oh, right. You… right. Okay. Well, don’t cry anymore.” Brian had no real idea what to do after that. He wasn’t really good at this touchy-feely crap and he wasn’t very in tune with children or other people in general. He couldn’t leave the kid here by himself. “Well, you can’t stay here.”

“I’m not supposed to go with strangers anywhere.” Dave pointed out.

“No, you’re not. But this is where you’re at now, Dave. You’re on the streets, and they can be tough. But you’re a smart kid and being smart is gonna be really helpful for you out here. So… come on. I’ll show you how it works.”

Brian wasn’t sure where that came from or why he cared so much. Dave had no reason to trust him. Brian was just another stranger but he legitimately wanted to help, and he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because he would have killed to have someone tell him all this, show him how to get by, when he was younger. He stood back up to full height.

“Don’t worry, kid. You’re safe. I promise.”

-

“All right, for your thirteenth birthday, I will now show you how to maintain proper hygiene.”

“…In a public bathroom?”

Dave had been staying with Bro now for about seven years. He’d become one of the more important people in his life. Bro took him in when he had nowhere else, and he’d been great. Dave even took to calling him Bro. They never spoke of it, but there was a mutual understanding that they cared about each other.

“Bro, this is stupid.”

“No, it’s not.” Bro had managed to stick most of his head under the sink faucet. He pulled it back up to look at Dave. “Nobody’s gonna respect you if you don’t respect yourself. You’re a Strider now and you follow my example. Stick your head under the damn tap and shampoo like there’s no tomorrow. Sometime today, kid.”

Bro went back to washing his hair and Dave sighed. He looked around first, made sure no one else was watching, then followed Brian’s example. He still thought this was stupid.

“Don’t use paper towels, they’re shitty. Use the blow dryers.” Bro advised and Dave listened. This felt ridiculous still, and it was a little embarrassing, but Brian had never steered him wrong yet. So when he said wash your hair under the sink and use the blow dryers to dry your hair, Dave listened.

“Good. Tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to pickpocket without getting caught.”

-

Yeah.

Dave considers himself lucky. Most of what he remembers is what Bro’s taught him. He thinks most kids wouldn’t really consider that much of a childhood, but he would beg to differ. He’s even got a pretty good set up right now. Helping Jade out where he can in exchange for things, while still sticking close to his Bro. It isn’t bad at all.

He walks down a street of houses and stops for a moment. Rose LaLonde is exiting her house again at the same time she always does on Wednesdays. He’s never really cared one way or another about her or her mom, politics aren’t exactly his thing, but he’s always found it strange that she sticks to this routine. On a second thought, it probably isn’t all that bizarre, but it’s always in the late afternoon/early evening that she leaves.

Dave just shrugs.

These apples are heavy.


	3. Chapter 3

"Strange, how not so long ago men still had some sense of honor." Iris Lalonde speaks slowly and deliberately. She rests her folded hands in her lap, leaning back into her chair, away from the conference table. The discussion has turned sour, and she's not interested in bickering with fools or pleading with cowards. Sometimes, Iris has a feeling she's the only member of the council who is neither.

Iris firmly places Jack Noir in the first category. He spits when he talks, keeps his teeth bared – he bears an uncanny resemblance to a very angry Chihuahua, and Iris is sure he hasn't made a good decision in his life. "Fuck honor. I haven't signed any treaties. What do deals made by dead men mean to me, Lalonde?"

It's been six months since the only other woman to ever sit beside Iris on the council resigned. Iris has no problem with men; she's actually rather fond of them, as one may be fond of cats. Men can be fun to have around, provided they don't realize they aren't nearly as in control as they believe. Jack Noir is not a lovable pet, and had she been able, Iris would probably have had him put down a long time ago.

"Legally binding is legally binding, Jack. We aren't above the law."

Noir rolls his eyes at that. "We are the law."

Iris looks around the room for support and finds none. Noir is getting out of hand, consumed with lust for – what does he call it? – cultivation. As if the City is some exotic flower that needs space to spread its roots. When Iris told Egbert about that, he'd laughed and said, "Ask anyone on the outside what Jack Noir is cultivating. Weeds, they'll say. Weeds get where they don't have any business being. You know what you do to weeds? You kill 'em."

Jack Noir is playing with fire, and as far as Iris can tell, he doesn't even care.

Iris puts her hands on the table and pushes herself to her feet. "I can see this is going nowhere. I think we should reconvene tomorrow when we're all feeling a bit more reasonable." She pauses, looking at the quiet councilmen that line the table. "And loquacious." No one makes eye contact; no one responds. She leaves.

-

Rose can't look in the mirror without seeing her mother. Her genetic gifts are apparent in the shape of Rose's eyes, the line of her jaw, the slope of her nose. Rose spent her early teen years experimenting with makeup, trying to correct the contours of her face, the curve of her lips. She still looked like her mother in disguise. Eighteen, she thinks, is too old for such petty tactics, and she paints her face to suit her tastes, even if it only accentuates the similarities between the two of them.

Downstairs, Rose is not surprised to find her mother absent. In her stead, a small gift basket sits on the coffee table. A note in meticulously neat handwriting declares her mother's regret that she can't be present to give a motherly interrogation before Rose heads out into the dark, dangerous City. Inside the basket, resting on a pink pillow, Rose finds pepperspray, a whistle, and an entire box of condoms.

Rose scoffs. She'll think of a rebuttal later.

The sun is setting when she leaves, the orange-tinted sky lending a warm glow to the buildings around her. It's a nice time to be outside; the City seems much less threatening. Crowded as it is, however, her neighborhood is the nicest in the City. Rose is headed into a much seedier part of town, and it will be dark soon, so she doesn't linger.

Rose usually manages to make it to her destination without being accosted by anyone; she pulls the hood of her jacket over her head and walks quickly, so she's not easily recognized. Hands in her pockets, no one tries to pick them. This time is no different. The meetings change locations weekly, but she can tell she's in the right place when she passes the back door of the building. She can faintly hear the shouting coming from inside.

She opens the door and descends the staircase, the voices getting louder with each step. The shouts she heard from outside mingle with smoother tones and softer words she can't make out. The door at the foot of the staircase is locked.

The door opens. The girl behind it is short and angular with tinted red-framed glasses, and her mouth spreads into an obscenely wide grin. She cackles, wrapping a bony hand around Rose's forearm and pulling her towards the haphazardly organized ring of chairs in the room. "Our princess has arrived!"

"I'm still not sure how you recognize me, Terezi." Rose finds an empty chair and drapes her jacket on the back.

Terezi leans toward Rose, still grinning like a madwoman as Rose sits down. "If it walks like a Lalonde and smells like a Lalonde…"

A louder voice interrupts her, from a small man barely taller than Terezi, standing with his hands on the back of a chair like he's forgotten how to sit. "For fuck's sake, Terezi, now is not the time to discuss the wonders of your olfactory senses. Nice of you to join us, Lalonde. As usual, your punctuality is a goddamn marvel."

"You're too kind, Karkat. It's my pleasure." Rose surveys the room. The attendance is lower than usual. Terezi's made her way over to Karkat, sitting cross-legged in the chair beside him, her cane resting on her knees. Kanaya Maryam, the very image of composure, is flanked on one side by Karkat and on the other by Aradia Megido. Aradia leans to her right to whisper in the ear of a lanky man whose name Rose can't remember. There are others whom Rose has never met or never cared to know.

Rose is the only City native at the meeting, she realizes. Usually there's at least one other, although they are always the minority. She suddenly feels a little self-conscious; the pale ivory of her skin is a sharp contrast to their greys. Aradia is the only one who hides her skintone; she wears thick makeup, gloves and scarves. According to Kanaya, Aradia does it to get more business at her shop, but Rose doesn't think the rationalization is necessary. Even among the lower class, immigrants and exiles from the settlements outside of the city are often subject to rough treatment.

Karkat rolls his eyes and presses his palm to his face like he's embarrassed by the universe. "Sollux, show her the thing."

The thing is a piece of paper, and Sollux holds it up for Rose to see. She crosses the room to get a better look. There's a drawing of a monster, grey-skinned and mutated, holding up a pretty decapitated head by its long brown hair. _Cultivate civilization_ , it says. _End savagery_. And there are more, Aradia pulls them out of her bag, all grotesque images and words like _savages, trolls_.

"Trolls," Sollux says, holding one of the posters by his face. "The resemblance is uncanny, huh?"

"It's Noir, it's gotta be." Karkat's frown etches deeper and deeper lines into his face. He shoves his hands into his pockets, shaking his head. "Whatever. We have more important things to discuss. Lalonde, do you have anything to share?"

"I do not. I've hardly spoken to my mother this past week. She's been remarkably busy." Or out drinking, Rose thinks, but she doesn't say it out loud.

"Wow, you're a big fucking help."

"Karkat, that's hardly fair." Kanaya looks at Karkat like a mother at a child in the midst of a tantrum – a little scolding, a little hopeless.

"It's alright, Kanaya. I haven’t done much to earn your undying gratitude, to be sure." Rose knows it's the truth; she had joined them with the promise of information from inside the Council, and rarely provided.

The meeting continues, but little is accomplished. Kanaya shares reports from inside the settlement, and the past week's various wrongs are discussed, but no real actions are proposed. Rose begins to wonder if she stumbled into a support group by mistake.

"Lalonde," Karkat says after several seconds of uncomfortable silence. "Are you still friends with the Egbert boy?"

Kanaya sighs heavily.

"I suppose you could say that," Rose replies. "John and I are at least pleasant acquaintances. Why?"

"Bring him with you next week."

"That's a demand, not a reason. What do you want with John?"

"We may need him," Karkat says, as though that's the end of it. "Alright, I guess we're done here."

Karkat begins pushing the chairs toward the walls of the room as everyone leaves. Rose walks toward him, but she is intercepted by Kanaya, who swoops in front of Rose and lays a slender hand on her shoulder.

"Karkat believes we may need an envoy," Kanaya says, as though anticipating Rose's question. "I can't relay messages to the settlement, because I may be in danger if they find out I've been working so closely with Karkat."

"Will that not be dangerous for John?"

Kanaya falls silent for a moment before responding, wearing a thoughtful look. "The Egberts are always welcomed into the settlement. They have established a rapport with our leaders, and despite their connections with the Council, they are not looked upon with distrust. If it became necessary to use John for this purpose, Karkat would be very careful not to send him with any messages that would put him in harm's way."

Rose does not find this convincing.

"I won't allow him to endanger your friend," Kanaya says, reading the expression on Rose's face.

"I appreciate the sentiment."

"Rose-" The older girl hesitates.

"Go on."

"Karkat won't say it, but I'm afraid we may soon be forced to take action. The proverbial shit is about to hit the equally proverbial fan, in a manner of speaking." She pauses, biting her lip. "I have to implore you to evaluate your motives for joining our cause. If this is all a passive-aggressive jab at your mother…"

Everything about Kanaya is meticulous. Her posture is perfect, and her expressions seem carefully controlled. She appears calm and composed, but Rose can sense that Kanaya is deeply worried.

Rose meets Kanaya's gaze and firmly holds it. "My motives are sincere."

"I truly hope so," Kanaya responds, smiling softly at Rose before turning to leave.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the grossly long wait, life and things get in the way.

John pushes his glasses up on his nose and sticks close to the heels of his father. They're going out to visit with the trolls again. No, that is derogatory. Trolls. He hates that term, and so does his father. They don't all seem so bad to him. They are considered 'uncivilized' as far as that goes, but he knows that there are some greyskins in the City and they seem like genuinely nice, if a little strange in the case of Terezi, _people._

Greyskins. That's what the politically correct term is and John always makes sure to be politically correct, or if he's wrong, at the very least, polite. But they _are_ people, they're not savages, contrary to what the asshole with the large ego and even larger superiority complex may say. He sighs. Jack Noir, as anyone with half a brain and an opinion will tell you, is a moron.

"You know, son," his father starts, and John sighs again, very faintly. He's trying to decide whether or not he should be listening. John usually has a tendency to tune out when his father speaks because he believes his father likes to hear himself talk. Not in the sense that Jack Noir likes to hear himself talk, no, not at all. His father believes that he gives good advice, and so he gives these... long-winded speeches. John only perks up if his name is spoken then feigns some kind of interest with a "Yes," or "Uh-huh." But he hears his father mention Noir and his head snaps up.

"Sorry, could you repeat that, Dad? I didn't quite catch it."

"I asked what you thought of Jack Noir," he repeats.

"Oh. Well, I think he's crazy! But isn't that kind of a given, Dad?" John tilts his head a little.

"I know, son, but I wanted to know what you thought _personally._ About him and all of..." He waves his hand in some vague direction. "This. The idea of 'cultivation,'" he uses air quotes then places his hands behind his back, "and all that. I didn't want to know the general consensus. I would have asked Ms. Lalonde if that was the case."

"Oh... Hm, well," John shrugs a little. "I guess I think that Jack Noir isn't the brightest. I don't think he knows what he's doing. And I don't like how he treats everyone in the settlement!"

"Not many people do. Though, some are starting to come around to his ideology." His father shrugs and tilts his face skyward. "Have you seen the posters?"

"Everyone's seen the posters, Dad." John replies a little flatly. "Everyone's seen his stupid televised specials and speeches. 'What have you done to join the good fight?'" He recites. "'Help cultivate the City, do your civic duty!' You can't go more than a few minutes without having it shoved in your face!"

"I suppose that's true," He chuckles. "I'm not quite sure how one man can succumb so strongly to megalomania."

"I am, Dad," John replies.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," John nods. "History repeats itself."

~

They begin to approach the outskirts of the village and John can just make out Feferi's features. They get a little closer and he can see Eridan standing just slightly behind her. He doesn't want to be there, his facial expression gives that away, but Feferi elbows him and he at least pretends to look like he does.

"Welcome back!" She calls in her usual cheerful manner. "It's good to see you again, Mr. Egbert! And you too, John!"

"Yeah," Eridan puts in. "Welcome back to our very humble abode." His strange accent masks some of his words and John has to mull it over before replying.

"Thank you!" He finally says, smiling a little. Eridan just rolls his eyes and Feferi elbows him again.

"We've been awaiting your return, Mr. Egbert." She says instead, leading them inside the settlement. "My mother's been eager to speak with you. Eridan's dad has been just as antsy, and Gamzee—oh, you haven't met Gamzee! Have you? Well, his father is the high priest, and they're all just waiting to speak with you."

"Fef, what do you want me to do with John? He can't go into the meetin'."

"Oh, that's right!" Feferi turns abruptly. "John, you'll have to wait here with Eridan. I'll take your father to speak with everyone else. Not to worry! We'll return shortly."

"But—" But before John can truly object, Feferi's run off with his father in tow, disappearing into a little hut of a house. He is a little annoyed at that; he went into the last few meetings with his father, why should this be any different? There is very little he can do, so he sighs and sprawls out on the ground, running his fingers through blades of grass, smiling just slightly to himself. It's something he always does at least once while he's out acting as correspondent with his father. The City is all John has ever known, it will always be his home, but it could never compare to _this._ Here the sky is endless; here he can feel the grass between his fingers and the wind against his face and not worry about a single thing. The City is all hard concrete and solid metal and a confined space where everyone knows everyone, and in some senses, he supposes that's nice, everyone knowing everyone. But out here, there is always a new adventure to be had, he thinks. If things were better, if Noir wasn't a madman...

"What're you doin', Egbert?" Eridan sighs impatiently, splitting up John's train of thought.

"I'm waiting."

~

His father emerges and John sits up. There are new lines in his face, as there always are, John notes, after these meetings, and his brow is furrowed. John didn't think these meetings were too terribly stressful, but then again, he's only been to three prior. Though, the topic of conversation was likely changed in John's presence. But then John thinks that having to be the go between for the Council and the settlement could be very stressful. Dealing with Jack Noir is exhausting, he imagines. He's never sure how Rose's mother does it.

He stands and his father walks past, so John follows and they begin the long trek back home. "How'd it go, Dad?"

"It went."

John frowns. "What does that mean?"

"It means that it went, John. Don't worry about it; it's not your job."

The rest of the walk is silent, despite plenty of questions swirling in John's head. He wants to ask all of them, but he knows pushing the issue with his father will get him nowhere. So he sticks his hands in his pocket and walks slightly behind.

He doesn't have a good feeling about this.


End file.
